


One Time Ronon Nearly Lost It (And No Wraith Were Even Involved)

by Tex



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tex/pseuds/Tex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John could see in his peripheral vision that Rodney had snapped his head up. “No. It wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything. This time, <i>he</i> has to apologize.”</p><p>It made John see red, to hear Rodney’s righteous fury. Apologize? Well, he’d be goddamned if he’d do that. “Go to hell, McKay,” John snarled.</p><p>“No, <i>you</i> go to hell.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Time Ronon Nearly Lost It (And No Wraith Were Even Involved)

One Time Ronon Nearly Lost It (And No Wraith Were Even Involved)  
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis  
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard  
Word Count: 4,634  
Rating: PG then NC17

Much thanks to my dearest Lamardeuse for beta, and to Neevebrody and Melagan for their kindness and support

 

John hadn’t felt like eating. His appetite had been off.

Truthfully, everything had been off for a couple of days. He couldn’t seem to find the energy to do much more than what his duties required him to do. Instead, he’d been spending an inordinate amount of time staring and saying “huh?” a lot. 

So far, he’d ducked out of two workouts with Ronon and one physical with Keller (although Keller wasn’t the least bit cowed by his best, long stare of command; she’d already rescheduled him for tomorrow). And he probably wouldn’t have bothered going to lunch at all today if Teyla hadn’t asked him to join her. 

He’d been planning to spend the day on the mainland. His appetite was gone but it had been replaced by an overpowering urge to blow shit up.

“Are you well, John?” Teyla finally asked him after ten minutes, as he used his fork to transform his mashed potatoes into a replica of Monument Valley.

John put down his fork and started to give her a pat answer but he’d learned over the years that there was little point in trying to lie to Teyla. Of course, in this case, it wasn’t lying since he didn’t know what the problem was. At least, that was his story and he was sticking to it.

“Oh, sure, yeah, I feel fine. It’s just.” John added a shrug and a whirly hand gesture. “Stuff.”

Teyla nodded gravely. “I see.”

“It’s nothing serious. Just the burden of command, the pressures of responsibility. You know what I mean.”

“Ah, yes, I sympathize. On the occasions that Kanaan and I are at odds, it is difficult not to be preoccupied.”

John sat up straighter. “Teyla, I’m not sure I get the connection but --”

“I am not stupid, John.”

“Of course you’re not. I just meant --” John trailed off as a commotion drew his attention. He stiffened as he watched Ronon and Rodney enter the mess, Ronon with a handful of Rodney’s collar, with which he was forcibly leading Rodney along a jagged path between the tables.

John took the scene in, his stomach in knots. He didn’t know if it was seeing Ronon dragging Rodney around or that his teammates were about to put his personal life center stage but either way, he wished like hell for a wormhole to escape into. 

Ronon shoved Rodney and his tablet none too delicately into the chair to John’s left. Rodney was furious, his mouth firing off rounds without reloading before his ass was fully in the seat.

“You can’t push me around like that. Technically, I’m your superior and I bruise very easily, as you well know and I don’t want to sit here.” Leaning away, carefully not acknowledging John, Rodney gave Teyla an outraged look. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

For a moment, Teyla appeared on the verge of laughter, but she gained control of herself. “I usually don’t approve of such methods but in this case, Ronon and I are in agreement,” she said. Then her voice turned more forceful. “And I think I speak for all of us here on Atlantis when I say it is time for this absurd feud between the two of you to come to an end.”

In the background, John heard a clap and a whistle and some brave soul (John would find out who later) gave a muted, “Hear, hear” in agreement. And even though he was pissed at, well, _everybody_ , there was another part of John that was mortified. 

He hadn’t realized he and Rodney had been that obvious. Rodney, yes. Jesus, if McKay broke the lead of a pencil, the entire base knew it. But John had always prided himself on being discreet. It was his birthright, a trait the Sheppards were taught at the cradle. But this? John reluctantly observed the faces crowding in, as if anticipating the climax of a Bruce Willis movie. This wasn’t discreet. _This_ was a disaster.

Beside him, Rodney loudly addressed the mess-at-large. “Well, I’m so very glad that your work loads are such that you have prolonged intervals available for gossip and innuendo. I mean, perhaps we should double up on the sewage detail this week, hmm?”

John gritted his teeth and clapped one hand over his now damaged ear. “A little louder, McKay,” he said out of the side of his mouth. “I don’t think they heard you on the east pier.”

“If I had wanted your opinion, Colonel, I would have submitted a form in triplicate to your bloated government.”

John turned in his seat. “Make up your mind. Who are you trying to insult, me or my country?”

Rodney faced him with a sneer. “I’m more than capable of doing both simultaneously,” and John sucked in a heated breath because after two days of this shit, he’d finally had enough, to hell with discretion or anything like it, he was going to let McKay have it.

And he would have, too, but suddenly, Ronon slammed his fist down on the table, causing cutlery to jangle, cups to jump and trays to shudder. John flinched, as did Rodney, and they froze when Ronon loomed menacingly. 

“Enough,” Ronon growled, focusing his dark stare on each of them in turn. “I can’t take any more. You’re going to settle this now. _Today._ And you’re not leaving this table until you do.”

Even Rodney had nothing to say to that and the sound of the room being cleared occupied the silence that followed Ronon’s outburst. Ronon swiped the back of his hand across his forehead as he straightened up and he turned to Teyla with an expression of honest confusion. “I was on the run from the Wraith for seven years and _this_ is going to be the thing that makes me lose my mind?”

Teyla’s mouth twitched but in the next moment, she was wearing her I-am-the-leader-of-my-people diplomat face. “You are both very dear to me and I hate seeing you so unhappy. Perhaps I can be of help.”

John could see in his peripheral vision that Rodney had snapped his head up. “No. It wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything. This time, _he_ has to apologize.”

It made John see red, to hear Rodney’s righteous fury. Apologize? Well, he’d be goddamned if he’d do that. “Go to hell, McKay,” John snarled.

“No, _you_ go to hell.”

Ronon growled and Teyla reached the end of her patience. She tightened her lips and rose stiffly from her chair. “Very well. I can see that this disagreement is of the sort that you must work out between yourselves. I will leave you to it, then.”

She and Ronon walked away from them and John shifted, ready to get the hell out of there. But when Teyla walked gracefully out of the mess, Ronon stopped and took a position at the table nearest the only exit. He sat down with his arms folded and stared meaningfully in John’s direction. 

John glared to absolutely no effect, then relaxed back down in the chair, even though he was anything but. Rodney’s nearness threw off equal parts of heat and hostility and every second Rodney sat there -- silent, still, indignant -- tested John in ways he never dreamed of. 

As time ticked past, a nervous energy gnawed at John. He drummed the fingertips of both hands on the table, the feeling building until he couldn’t stand it another minute. “All right,” John said in a low growl of intent. “Let’s get this over with.”

Rodney half turned in the chair toward him. Up until now, John had been looking off to the side -- at the cord of muscle in Rodney’s neck, at the fine creases that fanned out from the corners of his eyes. But as soon as John met that fiery blue gaze straight on, he felt the same treacherous rush of feeling that had gotten them here in the first place.

Rodney stuck his chin out. “Didn’t you hear me, Sheppard? I told you I have nothing to say.”

“Well, one of us better say something or Ronon’ll keep our asses here all day.”

“He wouldn’t dare.” Rodney shifted one buttock off the seat like he was going to stand and Ronon was fully on his feet in an instant, looking for all the world like a six foot four inch impenetrable wall. “Oh, come on,” Rodney whined but Ronon didn’t twitch until Rodney sat down again.

“Great,” Rodney muttered sourly. “Now what?”

They sat there, side by side, not speaking, ignoring each other for a long minute. After a brief lull, Rodney started tapping away on his tablet. John watched his fingers expertly fly across the touch keyboard and he fought the strong temptation to grab Rodney’s hands and hold them still..

John closed his eyes and tried to listen for that clear bell of reason in the cacophony in his head. But as hard as he tried to block it out, the only thing John picked up were Rodney’s words, over and over - 

_It wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything. This time, he has to apologize._

John winced. Okay. So maybe, just possibly, there was a _slight_ chance that he _might_ share some of the blame. And if he started off the mea culpas, surely that would give Rodney an opening to chime in and they could get up and go about their day and forget this ever happened.

He swallowed the little knot of pride jabbing him in the throat and licked his lips. “So. Listen,” John started and he spoke softly, as if humiliating himself at a lower pitch was less painful. “If, uhm, I did anything to upset you --”

“What kind of juvenile apology is that?” Rodney fired back. “Upset me? You might say that, Colonel. You had no right. Obviously, our friendship doesn’t mean as much to you as it does to me.”

John couldn’t believe that Rodney was questioning his loyalty and it made him wanted to put his fist through a wall. “You’re an ass.”

“No, _you’re_ an ass. You ruined _everything_.”

“I can’t believe you’re being such a baby,” John shot back under his breath, with his pulse throbbing at his temples. 

“And oddly enough, I _can_ believe that you’re acting like it’s just another day in Pegasus.”

Clearly, Rodney was really pissed off and the sting of anger John had been feeling did a u-turn and made a dive for his pride. “Suck it up, McKay. It was just a kiss.” Just saying the word, just admitting to it made John’s heart race with mild panic. He still couldn’t believe he’d done it. Was it only two days ago?

“That’s right, Casanova, it was just a kiss to you. You probably kiss, what, half a dozen people a day?”

John made a low, growly sound. Oh, yeah, he had them lined up outside his door, just waiting for a piece of his ass. “What’s wrong?” he returned in a hiss. “Did you want flowers, too?”

Rodney’s normally pinkish complexion flushed blazing red. “I didn’t want anything. I was doing fine, just being friends, just teammates and then you had to go and -- do that -- thing you did.” He turned again so that John was faced with his livid profile, the downward slant of his mouth, that mouth that John had kissed the day he lost his mind.

John scowled darkly. “I had no idea you were such a drama queen. Oh, wait. Yes, I did.” Rodney glared back and John cut his eyes away, thoroughly disgusted with Rodney, himself and everything. 

“Here’s an idea. Next time, forget the drunken kiss and just move straight to the blowjob. Save us some time.” Rodney sneered. 

John huffed out a laugh. “Right. At least then all this whining would make sense.”

“I can assure you, there wouldn’t be any _whining_ about a blowjob. I could use the stress relief.”

John snorted. “You’re less offended by a blowjob than a kiss? You’re a real piece of work, McKay.”

“You’re damn right, I am.”

A couple of beats later, they both turned toward each other.

“What did you say?” they asked simultaneously. “Did you --”

Rodney waved an impatient hand to shush John. “Did you just --” His voice lowered to an agitated whisper. “ -- offer me a blowjob?”

“ _No."_ John’s answer was emphatic but his follow-up question? Not so much. “Did you just agree to one?” John’s eyes flicked upward, to see if Ronon was catching any of this. The big man had his arms crossed over his chest with his eyes closed. But why the hell was he smiling?

“Well, who wouldn’t? But. It was just a theoretical blowjob, right? You didn’t actually --”

“So, what if I did?” A picture formed in his mind -- of Rodney on his back, writhing, arching his back -- and John swallowed hard. “It would kinda be a solution to this.” 

“Are you insane?” Rodney demanded in a strangled voice, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “How would a blowjob be a solution to anything?”

John stared at him until Rodney had to concede.

“Okay, a blowjob is a good solution to a lot of things but --”

“You said you needed the stress relief. Well, the past few days have been pretty stressful.” At this point, John didn’t even know where the words were coming from. It was like he had been taken over by some horny, alien entity and they were in control. But it was too late to turn back now. He and his teammate were talking cocks and orgasms and there was no putting the lid back on that jar.

“Be realistic, Rodney. We have to clear the air between us. This will do it.” Wow. He was so full of shit.

Rodney’s jaw dropped. “I think we said goodbye to realism _days_ ago.”

“All right. Shut up. This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to go to my quarters and -- I’m going to blow you.” He said it fast but Rodney immediately started to wheeze like he’d gotten a whiff of breakfast orange juice.

“What universe is this? Did we just slip through a tear in the space-time continuum because there’s no way that you’re the John Sheppard I’ve worked with for --” 

“You’re the one who brought it up!”

“I bring up a lot of things!”

John grabbed the front of Rodney’s shirt and yanked him close. “Do you want to sit here all day?”

“No, but --”

“So shut up and follow me.” John got up and started for the door, his legs wobbly and his breath pulled tight in his chest. As John approached him, Ronon got to his feet with a slow, arrogant grace that John had never possessed, not even in his twenties.

John stopped in front of him and to his immense relief, Rodney walked up beside him. “We’re going to my quarters now,” John said, wishing he sounded a little more military commander-ish and less teenage boy lying to his dad. “We’re going to fix it. I swear.”

Ronon eyed Rodney and John braced himself for Rodney to introduce some sanity into the plan and expose John for the total fraud that he was. But the improbable happened and Rodney nodded.

“Yes, we are. That’s what we’re going to do. Right now.”

Ronon’s skeptical gaze took them both in. “Shoulda done this a long time ago.” Then he grinned and took a step back. If Rodney heard Ronon’s laughter as they walked out, he didn’t comment on it. 

John and Rodney walked in utter silence from the mess to the transporter, a path well traveled by them both. But on this day, nothing was remotely the same. Once inside, John didn’t trust himself to say anything or to even look in Rodney’s direction and apparently, for the first time in recent memory, Rodney didn’t feel like talking either. 

John heard Rodney breathing, rapid and shallow, next to him and John’s dick got hard, so fucking hard. The truth was he’d been kinda hard (in his head, at least) ever since he’d said to hell with it and kissed his best friend, touched Rodney’s mouth with his and received a shock of pleasure so strong, it had knocked his whole world out of sync. Clear the air, he’d told Rodney. Yeah. This should do it, all right.

They got to John’s quarters, without either of them finding the wisdom to turn around and go back where they came from. And once inside, once the doors slid closed, once it was too late for cooler heads to prevail, John took Rodney by the arms and slowly backed him into the wall.

He took the tablet and put it on the bookshelf near the door and when he turned back to Rodney, Rodney looked a little freaked out, his blue eyes were wide and alarmed .

And that’s when John started to lose his nerve in a hurry. “Rodney,” John said, sounding hoarse and shaky, “we don’t -- I mean, if this isn’t what --”

“No, no, you were --” John stood there, barely breathing, while Rodney spoke in a thin voice, “you were right. This is the -- we should do this so come on. Go ahead.” Rodney’s hands were twitching at his sides, like he wanted to reach for John, but he was still unsure. 

This is had been his bright idea but as John moved in close, the material of his BDUs brushed Rodney’s and they both jumped a little, startled by the sound. This whole thing had started with a kiss but John looked at Rodney’s mouth and didn’t make a move toward it. He was hugely conflicted -- he wanted to do _everything_ but the deal was a blowjob and a blowjob it would be.

He reached for Rodney’s fly and somehow was able to open up his pants with his unsteady hands. Rodney’s breath caught when John went to his knees and tugged Rodney’s pants down. And John’s breath hitched when he saw the enormous erection tenting Rodney’s boxers. And then, he didn’t think about anything else as he freed it and wrapped his hand around the thick, hot length of it.

Rodney made a soft whimpering noise but it became background noise to the race of blood in John’s ears. He jacked Rodney a couple of times -- velvety skin over a rock hard muscle -- before he closed his eyes and took the head in his mouth. John sucked gently, tasting salt, until Rodney’s hand landed uncertainly on the top of his head. That’s when he grabbed Rodney’s hips and then, without flourish, took him all in, as deep as he could. 

Rodney’s body bowed off the wall and John tried to gentle him back, rubbing his thumbs against Rodney’s hipbones but John started to move then, sucking him, sliding his tongue against the underside of Rodney’s dick, getting into a rhythm that had Rodney babbling John’s name and other things John couldn’t really understand.

John started making a few noises of his own then. He wanted to get a hand down into his own pants but he didn’t want to let Rodney go or to let anything detract him from giving Rodney the best blow job he knew how.

It felt so fucking good having a cock in his mouth again -- _Rodney’s cock_ \-- and it all came back to him, how to get it done and get it done right. He’d wanted this, wanted Rodney. He had denied himself for so long and at that moment, he couldn’t remember the reasons why. 

He gave the base of Rodney’s cock a little twist on the downward pump and sucked him so hard a slurping noise broke the steady hum of the air filtration system. Rodney’s low groan started to rise in volume and then, Rodney’s cock pulsed and come filled John’s mouth. 

When Rodney finally rested weakly against the door, John reluctantly let his hands fall down to his thighs and sat back. Panting and dizzy, John glanced up at Rodney. His eyes were closed. He looked positively wrecked and vulnerable and a sudden, aching misery engulfed John that had nothing to do with the untouched erection in his lap.

It was over. He’d played his one card and the game was done. And now, there was nothing to do but try to go back to the friendship they’d had before he’d slipped up and kissed Rodney. He’d try to forget that he’d gotten his friend off and that he still wanted more and that it wouldn’t happen.

“John?”

It was the most loaded, one word question that John had ever been asked. As he wiped his mouth and got to his feet, Rodney hastily repaired himself, pulling his pants and underwear back up, his face flushed and his eyes wide.

“Rodney.” John swallowed hard and fixed on Rodney’s hands, buttoning up his fly again. “I’m sorry, buddy. This didn’t fix anything. I screwed up --”

All at once, those capable hands came up and framed John’s face. The kiss John had given Rodney that day on the mountain had been quick and a little drunk but Rodney didn’t mess around. He kissed John hard and deep and dirty, with the filthiest intent imaginable, no hesitation and no regret. John groaned and pressed his aching cock against Rodney’s thigh, dying for some contact, some pressure. And Rodney broke off the kiss and immediately started to open up John’s pants.

“Rodney.” John sighed against Rodney’s cheek when his big, warm hand got a firm grip around John’s dick.

“You’re a genius.” Rodney’s breath rushed hotly into John’s ear while Rodney worked John’s dick and fondled his ass at the same time. “It fixed _everything.”_ And John pushed his face into Rodney’s neck and came and came.

* * *

“...essential that you get those reports to me in a timely fashion, Colonel. Say, the end of work today?”

John nodded and edged his way closer to the exit. “Yes, absolutely,” he answered Woolsey but his mind had already moved on to the mess and lunch. “You’ll have them, you bet.”

Woolsey sighed. “Have a good lunch, Colonel.”

John waved and got the hell out before the little guy could give him any more orders. The morning had already been verging on crazy. One of the newly arrived grunts had come down with the chicken pox, which required a strict quarantine of one entire section of the living quarters and a reshuffling of duty rosters to accommodate the resulting week’s worth of short staffing; Teldy’s team was briefly stuck in a transporter; and worst of all, they ran out of pods for the new cappuccino machine in the conference room so John’s breakfast was pretty well ruined.

So he was in an even bigger hurry to get to the mess since he’d found that grilled club sandwiches with sea salt and vinegar chips could cure a lot of ills.

He strode happily to the head of the buffet line and no sooner was he was loaded up than he heard Rodney’s raised voice.

“No, you didn’t. You did _not_ just do that.”

John swung around and once he spotted the trouble, he trudged unhappily over to the site. Rodney had gotten to his feet and had an accusing finger pointed across the table at Radek.

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself, Rodney. Sit down,” Radek said.

John set his tray down. “Boys, boys. What’s the trouble here?”

Rodney continued to beam a death glare at Radek. “This -- this _jackal_ just spoiled me for The Game of Thrones.” 

“Oh, for God’s sake,” John muttered and sat down. Not even Rodney and Radek and their petty argument was going to keep him from -- 

John moaned as he took the first bite out of his sandwich. He closed his eyes as he chewed. Perfection. He could get naked with this sandwich, it was that good. Or maybe he was just that damaged by MREs.

“But you said you’d read the books.” Radek sounded innocent. A little too innocent, if you asked John. But no one did and he wasn’t about to volunteer the information so he kept eating. His taste buds popped at the combination of salty and sour in the crispy chips. 

“I said I’ve been reading the books along with the -- I can’t believe this. This is only season three. What’s the point of watching any more? Radek. I swear to you. This will not stand.”

John swallowed a luscious mouthful of sandwich and made a swipe at his mouth with a napkin. “Radek, would you excuse us? Rodney and I need to talk.”

Radek got up and picked up his tray. “With pleasure.”

John grimaced up at Rodney. “This will not stand? Really?”

Rodney slumped heavily into the chair next to John, leaning into him a little. “I really identified with Tyrion. Under-appreciated, underestimated, sharp of tongue --” 

“Okay, that’s it. You’ve interrupted my favorite lunch with this crap. I’m cutting you off.”

“From what?”

“No more fantasy. I’ll even watch Corner Gas with you again but we’re done with Dany and her dragons.”

“Sure, sure, whatever. I already know who will sit on the Iron Throne at the end. What difference does it make?” 

The half-dejected, half-outraged expression on Rodney’s face got to John, enough so that he pushed his dream lunch to the side. It could wait a few minutes. He slid his arm over the back of Rodney’s chair. “Well, we’ve still got Spartacus. Two more episodes.”

Rodney gaped at him. “That’s historical. I already know how that’s going to end. Slaves nailed to crosses along the Appian Way!”

“No,” John said reasonably, “that’s how it ended with Kirk Douglas. This is 2013. Artistic license and all that. You don’t know _how_ it's going to happen.”

Rodney thought about it for a minute. “Hmm. That’s a good point.” His eyes softened and he gave John a crooked smile. “Thanks, John. You really know how to talk me down off a ledge, don’t you?”

A couple of sarcastic answers came to mind but they were quickly obliterated by the driving need to kiss that crooked smile. John grinned back.

“I’m talented like that,” John said, just soft enough so that Rodney could hear.

Rodney’s cheeks reddened and his eyes darkened meaningfully. “Yes. Yes, you are. Let’s go make out.”

John choked and tried to cover it with a laugh. “Uh. Here comes Ronon.”

“Hey.”

They separated when Ronon dropped his tray on the table. John pulled his food closer and picked up his sandwich again, this time, with the delicious distraction of Rodney’s thigh pressed against his. 

When Teyla joined them, she gave John a smile. “So John,” Teyla said, “Your appetite has returned, I see.”

John’s gaze included each of them but lingered a little longer on Rodney. “Yeah. It’s a good day.”


End file.
